


his girl friday

by olwin



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Banter, Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, Kylo Ren is a giant grump, Possessive Behavior, Sarcasm Soulmates, but Rey can keep up, personal assistant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 19:37:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21151094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olwin/pseuds/olwin
Summary: You’d think over a year spent being his personal assistant would get her used to this rigorous exercise routine, but no. Kylo Ren is a special, hellish brand of cardio. (or Rey is famous actor Kylo Ren's personal assistant. yikes.)





	his girl friday

_ You take my breath away,  _ someone might say to a loved one. Because just being around them makes the heart beat faster, heightens the senses, makes it harder to breathe. 

Rey feels the same way when she walks next to Kylo Ren. Shortness of breath, heartbeat elevated, senses alert. But in her case, everything is pretty literal. His stride is so big, his frame so gigantic, that she has to run a mini-marathon in order to keep up. Not only that but she has to pay attention to  _ where  _ they’re going, be his eyes and ears, because Kylo Ren is apt to walk into a wall and tear it down when he’s in a fit of rage.

Today - surprise, surprise - he’s walked off set in a fit of rage.

Rey scurries after him, balancing her planner, his phone, and his coffee cup, which she managed to wrestle from him before he crumpled it in his fist. She’s already flushed from the exercise and it’s only nine in the morning. Yeah, her asshole employer takes her breath away, but for all the wrong reasons. 

“ - and the goddamn mediocrity _kills_ me. Imagine working with a guy who doesn’t even know who Tarkosvky is but has the nerve to tell me I’m interfering with  _ his  _ substandard vision, like he’s not some knock-off Brett Ratner snorting cocaine off his stripper girlfriend’s dried up tits-”

Rey opens her mouth, closes it, tries to process. She focuses on not dropping anything. She can’t actually picture their relatively benign 57 year-old director doing... _ that _ . But when he’s stirred up like that, Kylo can pretty much rant for hours and use the most descriptive language imaginable. She would blush if this were her first day. It’s not. 

“Are you even  _ listening _ ?” he chides, looking down and frowning because she’s lagging behind him. 

“Yes, yes, stripper tits,” she chirps with a big smile, because she knows her cheery attitude annoys him. 

“That’s not the point,” he grumbles. “You get where I’m coming from, don’t you?”

“Of course,” she replies instantly. “He’s a dick.” 

“You don’t really mean it,” he complains, quickening his pace.

Rey groans, runs faster. “How - can - I - prove - it?” 

Kylo combs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, tell him to stop fucking with my process. It’s your job to smooth things over.”

Rey bites her cheek. It’s one of her many unofficial duties. To smooth the whole world over in order for Kylo Ren, spoiled brat, famous actor, son of oligarchs, to be able to be an “artist”.

“I’ll talk to him.” Her shirt is damp with sweat and she’s starting to see dark spots. You’d think over a year spent being his personal assistant would get her used to this rigorous exercise routine, but no. Kylo Ren is a special, hellish brand of cardio. Aunt Kanata keeps complaining she’s too skinny. She also likes to bemoan her “wasted potential” and how it’s not right for someone as bright as her to spend her best years babysitting an egomaniac. 

“You should quit already,” the old woman harps, every time she goes to see her.

But Rey knows very well the doors this job could open for her if she sticks around long enough. She does feel a sense of achievement that she’s lasted the longest. Kylo Ren notoriously changes staff at least once a month. She’s managed to delay the inevitable, so far. Although God knows he could fire her at any time. He might fire her right now if she doesn’t respond, because he’s just asked her a question and she totally blanked out. 

“Well?” he drawls petulantly. “Are you no longer able to form sentences?” 

Rey adopts her most upbeat smile. “Oh, it’s not just me. You have that effect on most women.” 

He pouts, but a small ripple tugs at the corner of his lips. 

“I  _ asked  _ you if you’ve canceled my brunch with Phasma.”

“Umm, no, I have not,” she says, ducking her head. 

Kylo scowls. “Why the hell not?”

“Because you said I shouldn’t cancel it even if you told me to. You said you’d probably try to get out of it, so I should force you to go.” 

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

“ _ No one  _ sounds like you,” she quips. 

“Watch it,” he grunts. But he doesn’t bite her head off.

In fact, that’s the miracle of it all. Rey has discovered that she  _ can  _ actually talk back to the “Enfant Terrible”, as the media have dubbed him. The first time she did it it was an accident. Rey always got in trouble in school for “talking back”, but she never meant anything bad by it. She just had trouble with filters. She expected to get fired after the first time she slipped up, which was on day  _ four  _ of being his assistant, when he asked her what she thought of his stage name and she blurted out that she had initially believed it was an homage to Kylie Minogue. She remembers the way his face sort of fell in on itself, like a volcano about to erupt. And then he just pursed his lips and gazed absently in the distance, as if he was actually considering the notion. After a moment’s awkward silence he barked at her to go get him lunch. 

And that’s why she’s  _ still  _ his personal assistant. As odd as it may seem, if the quip is witty enough, he’ll allow it. But it has to be really specific. She’s seen many people try to be funny with him and land on their asses. 

The trick is to do it with a smile on your face. Innocence personified. 

She smiles up at him. “Will you be needing me in the next hour?” 

He frowns, suspicious. “Why?” 

“I have a personal errand to run. I thought I’d do it while you have brunch with Phasma.”

“Don’t tell me I have to sit there by myself and listen to her talk about her tenure at Conde Nast.” 

Rey shrugs. “I’m afraid I don’t have enough star wattage for Ms. Phasma.” 

Kylo makes a face. “What personal errand exactly?”

Rey hands him back the coffee cup and phone. “Gross lady business. Very icky.” 

“I have tampons in my trailer. Have at it.”

This isn’t her first day, but the remark still catches her off-guard. He’s so  _ weird  _ like that. 

And she hates that she knows  _ why  _ he has tampons in his trailer. He likes to do all his fight scenes, no stunt doubles, no buffers. Full immersion, as he calls it. Which means he gets into a lot of scrapes, usually bleeds on all the nice leather seats. And uses goddamn tampons to stop his nosebleeds. She makes a face. “Umm, thank you, that’s very generous of you, but that’s not it.”

“Then what?” 

Truthfully, she just needs to take BB-8 to the vet for a check-up, but he doesn’t have to know that. Another thing she’s learned in her time with him is that he doesn’t  _ really  _ want to know. He just likes getting under people’s skin. So she tries not to give him too much. That’s why he doesn’t really know her, but she knows almost everything about him. 

Rey groans. “Fine, fine. Brazilian wax. It’s been a long winter.” 

He gives her a dark look, but there’s that tug again. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

She grins. “Thanks, Boss.”

One of these days, she really  _ will  _ get fired. 

But at least this morning wasn’t so bad. In fact, by Kylo Ren standards it was positively peaceful. But she expects he’ll start a minor world war by lunch. 

That’s his charm, after all. 


End file.
